


Confession

by Ambie (noonvraith)



Series: I promise [3]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, i only ever published my writing online like 2/3 times in my life so please go easy on me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 00:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noonvraith/pseuds/Ambie
Summary: John finally gets his hands on the deputy, though the situation takes a slightly different turn than what could be expected.





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I haven't written anything "proper" in like forever, and I rarely ever publish my writing online, so please don't go too hard on me, thank you! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  
> Deputy is a former Eden's Gate member and John's wife. English is also not my first language so please bear with me.

The rope painfully cutting into her wrists was the first thing she became aware of after coming to her senses. They sat her into a chair in this awfully red lit room. Several metallic tools and contraptions hung from the ceiling, something that looked like a group of scales. A big chandelier made from antlers, one almost identical to those she used to see in her own living room, hanged above her head.

She was still barefoot, wearing only her long shirt, just barely covering her upper legs, and  she felt the cool touch of the air on her skin. It was either their luck or her recklessness they caught her like that, in the middle of dressing up. Or perhaps both.

She was just taking a short, refreshing break on the banks of a lake in the southwestern part of the Valley. It was midday, the air was hot and she was feeling an urgent need for a shower. Coming to the realization that the closest thing to a shower was inside her own home, a home now occupied by a bunch of deranged, armed men, she decided to use alternate means of refreshment, even though she used to be squeamish over bathing in lakes. Well, and look where _that_ has gotten her.

She even raised her hands in surrender, saying she will come willingly to avoid the hussle. Did not quite realize such claims will not change much anyway. They hit her with a Bliss bullet, right into her shoulder, and she still felt the stinging kiss of the impact and the drowsiness as the world started fading around her. She wasn’t quite sure why they did that. She obviously knew where the bunker was, where she was right there in that moment, strapped into that chair so tightly she found it unable to move. They didn’t have to drug her to hide the location where they have been taking her to. No.

And as Deborah shook all the traces of Bliss-induced fatigue away from her, as she heard their voices behind her back, she knew that everything they did, they did out of _spite._

“Hey! She’s up!” She knew that man, saw him around the Gate once or twice, back during… different times.

“Good.” The second man was fairly younger, two or three years older than herself, and newer to the Project, because she couldn’t quite place his face. “John’s going to be here any minute now.”

“Just as well.” She heard the clanking of metal as the first man moved around the room closer to her, offering her a better look at his face. Dark hair, a spark in brown eyes, she remembered his name. Aidan. Aidan Clark. Mid-thirties, drinking problem, had a sister called Lucy. Or Luise. One of these definitely.

She stared into his face as a glimpse of metal dancing in the light caught her gaze. A small knife in Aidan's hands. “I’m about to have a chat with her first.”

“Hey!” The newbie cleared his throat. He didn’t seem to notice the weapon. “I don’t know what exactly you have in mind, but John’s orders were clear. She must not come to any harm.”

There was a glint of anger in Aidan’s eyes. Or was it sadness? “Yeah? And what about my sister. What about Luise. Did _she_ come to no harm?!”

The pang of guilt was nothing new to her. She would almost swear she became used to it after all this time, if such a thing could even be possible. If there was a way one could stop feeling guilt after seeing the life escaping from someone else’s eyes.

“Why do we pretend that she’s so precious?!” Aidan started walking around her chair, clenching his fists, the knife glistening in the light. “Why does no one realize she’s just a _fucking_ traitor?! I mean, what else could she be if not that! How many of us did she kill already?! How many brothers and sisters?! How many of us does she have to kill until they finally realize what she truly is?!”

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, grabbing the armrests furiously, bringing his face to hers, rage seething, almost succeeding in hiding the pain underneath. “How long until they finally put her into the fucking ground!”

She looked up to his face, opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out of her. How could they. How could she ever even try to describe what she felt underneath.

Aidan didn’t seem to be pleased with the lack of response she was showing. If anything, it made him even angrier. He grabbed her by the neck, just like that, ignoring the shouts of the other man in the room. “What are you going to tell me on that, huh?! Nothing! Look at her! She doesn’t even have the decency to answer for what she did! Can you hear me?! Can you fucking hear me?!” He squeezed, barely enough to choke her, but enough to send all of her senses into an alarm. “Do you even remember her name, Luise?! Do you even remember the people you kill?! Your friends? Your family?!”

It all happened very fast. She heard the newbie cry out “hey, hey, hey!” before she felt the pain explode on her left cheek, immediately followed by the wet, warm feeling of the slippery trail of blood dripping from her skin.

It was self-defense. It has always been self-defense. Or at least that was what she’s been telling herself. To cling to the remaining trace of sanity inside her, to the remaining pillar of strength holding her together. There were little to no things Deborah was certain of at that time, but she knew as sure as death that if she didn’t hold on to the last remainders of the defiance she had in her, she would just as well break.

She heard the newbie shout as he snatched the knife from Aidan’s hands, though he didn’t seem to show much resistance. “That’s it, you fucking idiot! I’d like to see you explain this to John! We are fucked! I sure as hell hope you are fucking satisfied because we are fucked!”

The doors opened with a screech loud enough to send everyone in the room silent. “Explain to me what?”

She heard a pair of footsteps behind her and the sudden realization of two arms being placed on the top of her seat, just near her shoulders.

“I asked…” a smooth voice, with a subtle linger of anger, echoed through the room as the two remaining men stood silent, uncertain whether to speak, “...what is it that you want to explain to me.”

She looked up slowly. Two pairs of blue eyes met and lingered in a mutual gaze, for what surely had to be only few seconds, but what felt like a good portion of a minute.

“What is this?” John asked, and though he didn’t break his gaze, it was clear the question was not aimed at Deborah.

“What do you mean, ‘what is this’?” she decided to break the silence anyway, the saddest of smiles smearing the blood across her cheek. “Don’t tell me you can’t recognize your own wife anymore.”

Something shifted in his eyes just for the briefest moment there - was it because she called herself his wife again? She knew he used to love that, way back before… before everything happened - but it faded just as quickly as he fixed his stare on the pair of men in front of him. “Which one of you did this?” Then, after both of them refused to speak: “I’ll be asking only once and I suggest you answer.”

The room became silent. After getting no response, John let out a disappointed sigh. “Tsk-tsk. It will be easier for everyone gathered here if you just confess. Remember, lying is a _sin_. That, and…” he gazed at the thin trail of blood spread over Deborah’s cheek, “...and wrath.” He turned around then, walking away from the chair towards the two men, who were becoming increasingly worried about their fates now. “Or do you want me to get my answer some other way?”

John caught a glimpse of the knife in the newbie’s hand, and gripped him by the collar of his shirt, bringing his face to his. He took the knife and pressed it to the man’s cheek, just enough to draw a droplet of blood. “Hm? What’s it gonna be?”

“N-no!” The man squirmed. “It..it wasn’t me!”

“Aaah, well.” John let out a smile, easing his grip, and the newbie fell to the floor shaking. “I’m so glad we came to an understanding after all.” He turned around, facing Aidan, knife in his hand. “It’s so much easier when they confess straight away, but I guess we will make do.”

“No, please!” Aidan backed away slowly until his back hit the wall, face full of desperation. “I-I got carried away, I can explain! Please, I’m sorry!”

There was no trace of smile on John’s face now, and no trace of mercy as well. There was a loud thud as Aidan’s body hit the floor. The man could do next to nothing before John was all over him, knife digging into the flesh just below the man’s left eye, drawing a crimson pattern over his skin.

“NO! Stop!” Deborah’s shouting echoed through the room, somehow even louder than Aidan’s pained whimpers. “Leave him be!”

John paused, offering her a long look. “This is the man that hurt you.”  
“That doesn’t matter, just leave him be.” She didn’t look at John as her gaze was fixed at Aidan’s eyes. Was it because she felt guilty about what happened to Luise? Was it because she couldn’t stand to see John harming another person in such a vile way? Was it because she had seen so much bloodshed already? Or, and that was even more alarming, was it because she deeply down inside her own heart believed she deserved what Aidan did to her?

Still, whatever the answer, John let out a tired sigh, and after a while of pondering over the situation, stood up, tossing the knife away. “Get him out of here,” he said towards the newbie, without as much as looking at him. “Lock him up. I’ll see him later. Seems his skin lacks a series of tattoos I forgot the last time.”

“N-no! Please!” Aidan whimpered as he was stood up and taken away from the room.

John didn’t seem to pay him no mind. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Deborah, tied to the chair, blood slowly drying on her cheek. He stood there like that, not moving, until the door closed and they were alone.

“Let me take a look at that.” He said then, shaking off his coat and bringing up a piece of white cloth. He knelt in front of her and pressed the fabric to her cheek, wiping the blood away. “It wasn’t that deep. You’ll not have a scar by any chance.” His touch was soft, surprisingly soft after the display he put on just moments before. And his voice… it almost sounded like the old John she used to know.

He paused, looking at the result, and after making sure there was not a spot of blood left, he stood up again. “Give me a second. I’ll have something for it around here.”

She watched him rummage through the drawers of a metal table at the other side of the room before he came back with a small bottle of a clear liquid and a box of plasters. “I’m afraid this will sting for a bit.” He said as he poured little of the bottle’s content on the cloth and brought it to her face.

She hissed at the pain and tried to squirm away.

“Shhh. It needs to be done and you know it.” He looked her in the eyes and even though his gaze was soft, she had a feeling he wasn’t talking solely about the wound.

“There,” he said after he was done, and picked up a plaster to press against her skin. “As good as new.”

He stayed silent for a while, still kneeling on one leg, watching her, as if he waited for this moment for a while now, but was uncertain what to do about it now that it finally happened.

“Why are you like this?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“Why are you _kind_ to me?”

His look was pained, as if that sentence hurt him in more than a psychical manner. “You wound me. Why would you think I would be anything but kind to you?”

“Because I’ve seen you saw nothing but destruction and pain over this country for the past months. Because I’m not sure I truly know you anymore.”

He was still looking into her eyes, even though he was finding it harder this time. “You don’t understand. That’s alright. You will see soon.”

She writhed her wrists, still painfully bound to the chair. “Will I have to be tied for this conversation? Or can we talk like normal humans instead?”

He paused for a second. “And will you grant me you will not try to escape this time and hear me out instead?”

She bit her lip. She knew what answer exactly he was waiting for, and she’d be damned if she’s going to say that word again. The whole fact that the very same word was etched to her skin over the fingers of her right hand, a forever reminder of her past, was enough for her. “It’s not like I have anywhere to run anyway, right?”

“That’s not an answer, you know.”

“And what is an answer for you, then?”

“Oh,” he flashed a pleased grin. “I think you know very well, _my dear_.”

She watched him for a while. “Maybe.”

He chuckled to himself. “Not quite the word I was hoping for, but I guess I’ll have to take it.” He stood up, taking a knife from the table and walking behind her. With a few swift movements, he cut through the ropes, freeing her wrists.

She rubbed them with her palms, feeling the warmth as the blood circulated through them.

The screeching of wood against the metal floor echoed through the air as John took a spare chair and moved it across the room, sitting in front of her.

“You know,” he said, gazing at her hands, now free from the ropes, “I missed you.”

“Did you now? I can’t say I noticed with the horde of cultists chasing me through the whole county.” It was uncharacteristic for her to be cheeky, but she was also very tired of everything.

What he said was so unexpected she flinched at his words, as if they hit her across the face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what they did to you.” She realized he was talking about her left cheek. “I will have him punished for letting in to his wrath so openly.”

She looked him in the eyes, and whispered, almost too quietly to hear: “He did it because I killed his sister.”

“...I see,” he said slowly and looked down, at her trembling hands, clenched together. “You’ve been drawn to do unspeakable acts. I see it haunts you.”

She stifled a sob. “You have no idea what I’ve been forced to do.”

And just like that, it came back. The memories of the visions, the crimson shielding her gaze, the world around her fading, the noise becoming quieter and quieter until the only thing she heard were the words etched into her mind like a brand burned into her skin, until her whole being, her whole world, became nothing but the song, the melody she used to hear from the rusty radio in her grandparents’ kitchen as a child. And then, the hazy, foggy vision as she woke up, the feelings of guilt even stronger than ever before.

Brother Jacob used to be a model figure to her. The older brother she always wished for and the older brother she never had. He was the one who helped her train with guns, and she taught him her way around the bow and arrows in return. She could remember it so clearly, how they stood in the backyard of the ranch that one sunny day and had a go at the targets in the shadows of the pine trees. She thought about it now, how awfully ironic and bittersweet it came to be after what he had her do.

She looked at her hands, shaking now. She was not even sure why she was letting John see her like this, but she was even less sure of what could happen if she would try to hold all of it inside her any longer. “I’m not even sure If I killed,” she said suddenly, worrying her lip. “I’m not even sure if I killed someone and don’t even know about it! I mean it’s not like I had much control back then, what if I truly went and ended someone’s life without even knowing? Without even knowing their name?!”

She quickly wiped the tears that were about to fall from her eyes and landed her hands in her lap, holding them together, holding _herself_ together, as if she was about to burst out, to explode in any second.

“I see.” John said again. “Jacob’s trials have been hard on you. He wanted to bring you back, to remember. He should’ve left it to me.” He watched her worrying hands, as if pondering whether to touch them or not. It seemed so surreal, because his advances were anything but subtle before, because she was _his_ , after all. And yet, he waited for what seemed like and eternity before reaching out and taking her hands in his, her warm, soft skin against his own, a feeling he missed for such a long time.

She didn’t flinch as he intertwined their fingers together, and she didn’t back down. She felt his warmth, palms covered in tattoos she used to held to her cheeks during happier times. She let him take her hands into his, and she _squeezed_ back.

She completed the first trial without killing anyone. She had enough control over her mind and body to be able to manage that. Jacob was not pleased but he wasn’t surprised either. He tried to push harder, to take her even farther, to make her see, to make her remember their training, to make her remember her _purpose_. But she refused to give in. She had, miraculously, enough defiance left to not take willingly another’s life, the same defiance that kept her sane during the very same times she failed that intention. And Jacob Seed did not try to break the woman he used to call his sister again afterwards.

John pulled his seat closer, one hand still holding hers, the other stroking gentle patterns along her forearm. “It will stop now. You have my word. There’s no need for any trials anyway, now that you are here with me. You are back now. I will take you back to the ranch, I will show you everything, I will try to make you understand, and you will see the truth. You will not regret it, I promise.”

He felt her become tense under his touch. “And what if I refuse?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why? Are you seriously asking that?” In a quick motion, she withdrew her hands from his, something he flashed a betrayed look at. “Because I don’t want to see your ‘truth’. Because I’ve left for a reason. What you do is wrong, John. I cannot be a part of that. I will _never_ be a part of that.”

He sighed, bringing up a hand to brush through his hair, and stood up, beginning to pace around her. “All I ask is for you to listen to me. You cannot understand until I show you everything. All I want from you is your consent to let me show you the true purpose behind everything we’ve been doing here. I know it might seem as a wrong thing to you, but _trust_ me, once you truly understand…”

“I don’t want to understand, John! It’s wrong! People are dying, it doesn’t matter if they are from the Project or not, there are actual living people dying here because of your games! I don’t care whatever your reasons, whatever your explanations, this can never, _ever_ be right!” She felt the anger build up inside her, the frustration, how can he not see anything of this? When did he become so blind? She watched him walk around her, an unfamiliar look in his eyes, and she never felt more wretched in her entire life than in that very moment. “Whatever happened to you, John?” She shook her head, unsure whether the whole pressure that has been building up in her would finally burst out and break her. “Whatever happened to the man I married?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his back towards her, hands supporting himself on the table. His voice was unexpectedly quiet. “You left me.”

“You _left_ me.” He said again. “You left me without a word. And I begged you!” Suddenly, he slammed his fist into the table and turned around, a look in his eyes so full with anger and pain it was almost inexplicable. “I begged you on my knees!” He shouted, marking his point by clenching a fist, bringing it up and down with every word. “I _begged_ you to stay! Bud did you listen? Did you listen?!”

She did not respond. She refused to even look into his eyes. She had every right to leave of course, she tried her best to persuade him to come with her, to no avail, naturally. And yet, she found no courage to look up and say that to his face, for the hundredth of times. Not because she would be scared of him, no, she was never scared of him. But she couldn’t bare to see him like _that_.

“I have searched the whole valley,” he continued, seeing as she wouldn’t speak to him just yet. “Jacob commanded the groups searching for you himself. They combed the county from morning to evening every single day, for countless of days, and yet, there was no trace of you.” He brought his hand up, pointing at himself. “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve sat around, awake, with the letter you left me on the bedside table crumpled in my hands, because I thought, because I _hoped_ that every second now you might come back, but you never did! You never did!”

She sat in silence for a while, feeling his gaze on herself. “You could have gone with me instead. None of this would happen if you left.”

“None of this would happen if you _stayed_!”

She looked up at him. He was shaking now, though it was not only anger that took a hold of him. “Are you telling me you are doing all of this because I left you? Don’t try to put the blame on me John, I have warned you countless of times.”

“Everything I ever did,” he said, putting enough pressure on each word, “I did for _us_. For our future. For a future where we can be together and safe. Joseph can provide that for ourselves. If only you let me show you how.”

“How?” She stood up now, slowly, and walked closer to him, not too close, just a few steps forward. “What are you going to do? Are you going to mark me? To etch my so-called sins into my flesh like you did to everyone who opposed you?”

He shook his head, his voice quieter now. “Still, you doubt me. How could you ever think I would harm you against your will? No. I will not touch you in such a way if you do not openly ask for it. But I will try my damnedest to let you see. Getting you back home will be the first thing.”

“Oh I’m not going anywhere.” She protested, backing away from him suddenly.

“Would you like to stay _here_ instead?”

“No, but I’m not staying here either.” She turned around, and in a frenzied moment sprang towards the door, although she was fairly sure it was locked, although she _knew_ there was nowhere she could run.

He caught her from behind, turning her around so she would have to face him, arms wrapped around her back pressing her against his chest. She didn’t show much of a fight. “Where do you think you are going now?”

She clenched her fists and pounded them at his chest, for no other reason but to let the frustration inside her take a hold of her. “I don’t know! It doesn’t matter! None of this matters! Nothing will ever be as it used to be before!”

He waited until she was finished, until the last of her hits ceased, and steadied her, giving her a long look. “Is that what you wish for?”

She tried to pull herself away from him and he allowed her to. “Like that even matters. Like anyone ever gave a fuck about what I wanted since I came here. I don’t care what you want to do to me anymore, but I would trade all of that for being able to turn back the time, back before I decided to join the Project, back when… when…” She paused, confused, unable to find the right word.

“Back when what?” He asked, watching her, waiting, but not daring to move closer for some reason.

She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and sighed. “Back when you were mine.”

She did not expect him to smile. And yet, he did, one hand taking her palm, and the other reaching to her face and cupping her chin. “Oh, but I _am_ yours. I have always been yours. I gave you a promise after all. And I _will_ be yours, but you will have to promise me something in return as well.”

She felt the warmth of his fingers on her skin. “You know I can’t ever promise you that.”

He sighed. “No. Not yet. But even if you don’t, I’m not quite ready to give you up, _Debbie_.” The way he said her name made her shiver. There was something about how he said it, like a whisper, so softly like he might just as well kiss her. She became quickly aware of her sudden thoughts and tried to repress them immediately, but she felt the telltale warmth spread through her cheeks nevertheless.

He noticed her flushing cheeks and rubbed the back of his fingers against them tenderly, a feeling that almost made her knees weak. It was ridiculous, obviously. After all the years they’ve been together it was nothing new or surprising to her. And yet, she would swear that if he stopped, that if she had to feel the cold presence of the empty air on her skin instead of his warm caress, her heart could might as well cry a lonesome song.

“No.” He whispered, gazing over her half-way opened lips, as if waiting for her permission. “I don’t ever want to give you up.”

The next words came from her mouth without her openly intending it. “Then don’t.”

He reached behind her head, winding his fingers through her hair and eventually taking hold of the black ribbon she used to tie her front strands of hair with.

“What are you doing?” She asked as he pulled at the ribbon, letting the strands of her hair come loose.

“Something you’ll like,” he answered, not breaking his gaze as he took her hands and brought them upwards to one of the many metal racks hanging from the ceiling. This one was empty, as there were no scales hanging from it. “Don’t want you running on me yet again, after all.”

She watched him as he fastened her wrists, the soft feel of the silk on her skin. “Here I thought you cut my ropes there for a reason.”

“Don’t worry.” He said as he brought his fingers to her chest, playing with the collar of her shirt. “It won’t take long.”

She let out a sigh as he started to work his way through the buttons, the cool air kissing her revealing skin. “You promise?”

He chuckled softly. His touch was surprisingly warm against her skin as he drew patterns across her chest. He cupped her cheek, the healthy one, with his free hand. “I _promise_.”

He trailed his fingers upwards, circling the curve of her breast, sending shivers through her spine. She clenched her teeth tight, but she couldn’t help a soft moan escaping her mouth nevertheless. He pressed his forehead to hers as he rubbed his thumb over her hardened nipple, an action that made her bite her lower lip almost way too hard.

His eyes were awfully blue despite the red light. “I missed you.”

She didn’t answer, breathing quietly in the empty space between his words.

“Did you miss me too?”

He stared at her, expecting, waiting for a response, any response. She was not sure what to answer, if to even answer at all. His touch burned into her skin and she was finding it hard to focus on anything else.

“You know,” he said, dropping the hand that held her cheek and trailing it downwards, tickling her belly softly, “lying is a sin. And what else is a lie if not a withdrawn truth?”

She couldn’t hide the moan escaping her lips when he reached between her legs, becoming aware of the sudden warmth pulsing between her thighs.

He still gazed into her eyes as he slithered his fingers underneath the cloth of her underpants, pushing them down, almost without a blink, and it was driving her crazy, oh how it was driving her crazy. The way he just intently stared at her, watching her every move, every single twitch of her muscles, all the times her lips parted to let out a quiet whimper, making sure he did not miss anything, any single way she responded to his touch, so he could observe all the different things he could make her feel.

John pressed his cheek to hers as his fingers worked their way through the warmth blossoming in her core, his lips tickling her skin softly. “Did you miss me, _kitten_?”

Something shifted inside her. His eyes were awfully blue, so awfully blue she could get lost in them. She would gaze into them as he waited for his answer, her toes curling, lips no longer trying to hide the moans escaping them. Her body was on fire and his eyes were the blue ocean that would save her. Or drown her. But right there, at that moment, she wouldn’t even mind the latter.

“Yes.” She whispered, and she felt as if a giant pressure holding her heart just came apart.

“Mhhm.” He purred, satisfied. “‘Yes’ what?”

“Yes... I missed you.”

It was only after she uttered those words that she felt his lips against hers, after what felt like an eternity.  
“Who would have said,” he whispered between embracing her lips, breathing through the hot air, “that all their attempts would be in vain.”

She parted her mouth for him again and again, feeling the warmth of his tongue as he reached up and pulled at the ribbon holding her wrists in place, freeing them.

“You did not need any trials or drugs,” he continued on, reaching for her hand and pressing it against his own cheek, leaning into it for a second before closing his eyes and kissing the inside of her palm. “All you needed was to be shown love.”

He brushed the fingers of her other hand through his hair and she felt as she would shatter in his embrace if he didn’t hold her so tightly. He broke away after what seemed like the longest kiss in her lifetime. “I’m glad you are here.”

She caressed his cheek softly, and the way he leaned into her touch made her heart sing, despite everything, despite feeling like all of this was wrong. “For what it’s worth it in this very moment,” she said, and now it was her who leaned in to meet his lips, “I’m glad to be here too. For now.”

“‘For now’? Do you intend to leave anytime soon?” He asked as he supported her legs and helped her wrap them around his waist. “I would hate to have to tie you up yet again.”

 _Liar_. She wound her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his cheek. “No. Not yet at least.”

He trailed soft kisses along her neck, nibbling at the skin there, drawing quiet moans from her. And then: “Do you want it?”

There was something in the way he asked that question. They were in a locked room several meters underground, with no one around, and yet he was asking her for consent. He could have taken her right there right then without even batting an eye, and there would be little to nothing she could do about it. Perhaps it was merely because he wanted to hear that word from her lips yet again, but she knew him well enough to know the reason behind his question was not that simple. Because despite everything John did, despite the situation they found themselves in, he was not the man to force the decision on her. He wanted her consent, yes, but he wanted the decision to be hers.

She nodded slowly, but she knew that wasn’t enough of a response to him. “Yes.”

He smiled and pressed his lips against hers in a brief kiss before standing her up on the ground. “Just wait for a moment.”

He reached for his coat and sprawled it over the metallic ground. It wasn’t the first time they used it in such a fashion and distant memories flashed in front of her eyes as she felt the heat inside her burn faster.

“Now, this should make it better.” He said after he finished his work, offering a hand to help her lay down among the silk insides of the coat. The fabric felt cold against her burning skin and she shivered.

“Are you cold? I’m sorry.”

She embraced him as he crawled over her, fumbling with his belt. “Warm me up, perhaps?”

“I’d be happy to oblige.” He purred, fingers trailing downwards her chest, her belly, her legs, gently spreading them open and winding around his waist.

He was surprisingly soft, as if afraid if pushing too hard after all this time would break her in his embrace. He watched her all the way through, gazing into her eyes as their bodies met again and again and again, the sound of their moans the only noise filling the empty room. She hugged him tight, drawing him closer to her, pulling at his hair, her nails pressed into his back in a way that would leave a few small bruises later on. He didn’t mind, if anything, it drove him even closer to the edge. He hid his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair, her skin, her _love_ , as she moaned and pleaded, pleaded _his_ name, “John”, so sweet on her lips, the most delightful of sounds. Arms wrapped around her shoulders tightly and with mouth pressed to the side of her neck, he gasped, filling her warmth with his own as his pace slowed down until they both laid around in an embrace, breathing, resting, her head upon his chest, close to his beating heart.

Fingers trailing down her shoulder, he pulled her closer to him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

They laid like that for a while, the words hanging in the air above them. It was a long time since he uttered those words in such a manner, in such a soft, quiet voice. It was easy, almost easy, to forget everything else for that moment.

“Are you not going to say it back?”

She sighed and trailed her fingers across his chest, across the word SLOTH etched into his skin, thinking. “Does it even matter now?”

With an arm still around her back, he cupped her chin with his free hand and she gazed into those blue eyes, into those awfully blue eyes, once again. “Of course it matters. Right now, in this moment, it’s the _only_ thing that matters.”

She gave in. Maybe he was right, maybe nothing else truly mattered in that moment. Maybe she could forget about everything else for a while, maybe she could be selfish with herself for a minute, maybe she _needed_ to in order not to break. And just like that, she caressed his cheek, fingers gently rubbing against his skin, and for a moment, the blue eyes were the eyes of a man she used to know.

“I love you.” She whispered. Because that was all that mattered.

 


End file.
